


Make Derek Do the Thing

by remivel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Stiles, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Comedy, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanboy Stiles Stilinski, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, References to Knotting, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Stalking, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remivel/pseuds/remivel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Moonlight Hills tells the story of Michael (Stiles Stilinski), a typical high school student who finds out his family's centuries-old secret when he turns into a werewolf one night. But he's not the only one hiding something, as Michael meets Laurie (Cora Hale), a mysterious newcomer to Moonlight Hills, who seems to have fangs even sharper than his.</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>Watch TV's hottest supernatural couple on Moonlight Hills, Thursdays 8/7c, only on The CW.</i></p>
<p>'Not in a million years', Derek thought as he tossed the TV Guide away. Everyone seemed to be watching Moonlight Hills nowadays. Everyone except him. He knew he should be at least supportive of his sister's showbiz success. It was, after all, the "family business". But, another teen idol pretending to be a werewolf? And romancing his sister on screen too? No thank you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Go to a Party

**Author's Note:**

> More about the story: Actor!Stiles and not-a-fan!Derek rom-com AU. Where Derek is the only 'regular guy' from a family of actors, and Stiles is the annoying werewolf kid on TV who's fallen head over heels for him. Derek wants nothing to do with Stiles, but as he finds out, Stiles is nothing if not persistent.
> 
> Author's note: Unbeta'ed. Tags are for future chapters. Updates would probably be sporadic, so bear with me. The silly title probably already clues you in: this can be a silly story at times because, honestly, this is just a purely self-indulgent fic. I've been wrestling with this plot bunny for a long time, and since I've been in a writing slump for months, I thought I'd write something just to have fun and maybe get my groove back. If you happen to like it too, then great! Let's just enjoy ourselves, shall we?
> 
> Thoughts and complaints are very welcome! Come say hi! on [ tumblr](http://remivel.tumblr.com/) if you want.

_“So Stiles, what's the best part about playing a werewolf?” the interviewer asked._

_“The best part about playing a werewolf?” Stiles confirmed, sitting back on the armchair and looking at the audience. “You know what? Now, people seem to think I actually look cool with facial hair.”_

The audience laughed and Derek tried not to roll his eyes.

_“No seriously, I am not kidding. When I tried to grow facial hair before, I looked like a creeper. Or a hobo. Now... suddenly, it's hot!”_

“Oh Stiles,” the teenage girl behind the counter giggled, and Derek felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation. She was new. She didn't know any better.

 _“Do girls really dig that whole wolf-face thing, with pointed ears and_ _all?” the interviewer asked._

_“Oh yeah,” Stiles replied with a wide grin. “I'm instantly 10 times more attractive to girls. I think it's 'cause I remind them of their dogs.”_

“Is he done yet?” Derek asked, fingers tapping on the counter impatiently.

He got no answer, the employee's eyes and ears were tuned to the TV in the corner of the waiting room, completely ignoring the not-so-patiently waiting customer in front of her. It was airing a taped interview with the cast of _Moonlight Hills_ , a show about supernatural creatures that was widely popular nowadays, almost everyone was watching it. Everyone except Derek.

“Is he done yet?” Derek repeated, louder this time.

“Hmm?” she asked distractedly, noticing as if for the first time that there was someone standing in front of her. She finally tore her eyes away from the TV screen long enough to look at Derek, and her eyes widened and she immediately blushed. “Oh, hi,” she said dumbly. “Sorry, uh, who were you picking up?”

Derek gritted his teeth and took a deep breath to calm himself. “Deucalion.”

“Oh right,” she said, laughing nervously. “He'll be out any second now. You can take a seat for a moment, if you want.”

“I'll stand,” Derek replied, and did exactly that, standing silently in front of the counter. His ominous presence in front of her made the employee fidget, and she tried not to get distracted again by the TV.

That lasted for all of 45 seconds before her attention was drawn back to the TV, where _Moonlight Hills_ star, Stiles, was laughing animatedly with his love interest in the show. She was young and beautiful and looked like she could beat the daylights out of anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way. In Derek's opinion, she was too good for Stiles, who looked skinny and defenseless next to her. But apparently, the contrast between the two was exactly why the show was so popular.

Stiles played a werewolf, she played a vampire. She was a beautiful, young actress from a family of well-known actors, practically a Hollywood princess, while Stiles was the simple yet charming new guy from a small town. It was a pairing made in TV heaven, and their on-screen and off-screen chemistry only made the viewers go even more ga-ga over them and the show.

“They look so good together,” she said dreamily, then snapping herself out of it when she realized Derek was standing there, glaring at her like she just insulted his mother. “Not a Moonlight Hills fan?”

Derek just continued to glare at her, and that was all the answer she needed to hear.

The thing was, it was hard for Derek to tolerate books, movies, or TV shows dealing with werewolves. Everything was just so over-the-top and grossly inaccurate. Werewolves didn't grow into fluffy, bear-sized wolves who fell in love with babies (because that's just sick). They didn't even have to transform during the full moon, and they were certainly not monsters who ate damsels in distress for dinner. They could stay perfectly hidden with the rest of the humans if they wanted to. They weren't mindless beasts. It was all a matter of self-control.

He would know, of course. He was one.

And right now, it was taking a lot of Derek's self-control not to dig his claws into the counter as he was forced to listen to another minute of these actors talking about werewolf abilities like they were the supposed experts.

Thankfully, just at that moment, the double doors behind the counter opened and a man stepped out cradling a round and fluffy Pomeranian. Derek recognized this particular employee from his few visits to the shop. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Hale. Deucalion wasn't cooperating,” the man said with an apologetic smile.

Derek took the dog with a grunt, adjusting the collar on it's little neck. It's even studded with what appeared to be diamonds. At this Derek rolled his eyes.

“Wait... Hale?” the teenage girl asked in confusion as her eyes traveled from Derek's face to the TV screen, where Stiles joked around with his co-star, Cora Hale. She took one look at Cora's face then back at Derek and realization dawned on her. “Ohmygod,” she gasped. “You're--!”

 

\- - -

 

“You're my _brother_ , Derek,” Cora said over the phone.

“Of course, how could I forget?” Derek said, putting Deucalion down on the floor as soon as he walked in his loft. The little guy scurried to the corner of the couch, lifted up his leg and--

“Oh for fuck's sake!” Derek cursed, his eyes glowing blue menacingly as he stomped to the couch to scare the dog away. It ran before Derek could get to him.

“What?” Cora sounded affronted.

“No no, not you. Deucalion peed on the furniture again,” Derek said, turning around to get the mop instead.

“Well, mom'll be home any minute now, you can return the dog to her then come to my party,” Cora suggested. “You know, we live in the same city and I've only seen you twice these past few months. You have to make it up to me.”

“I'll make it up to you some other time,” Derek said. He mopped the floor and, too lazy to go back to the kitchen, he plopped on the sofa and left the mop on the side of the table. “You know parties aren't my thing.”

“It's not just any party. It's my 21st birthday and I want you there. At least come for the alcohol,” Cora said.

“Cora--”

“I had it laced especially for you,” she interrupted before Derek could utter another excuse. “That way you wouldn't even need to socialize and you'll be drunk before you know it!”

Derek thought for a few moments. Though he usually made it a point to steer clear of anything to do with fame-hungry celebrities, spoiled socialites, nosy reporters, and god-forbid, fast-talking agents... he supposed he could do it for a night. It was a party after all, Cora's party, so hopefully everyone would be too busy drinking and having a good time for anyone to bother Derek. Maybe he could stay for a couple of hours, just pretend to enjoy for Cora's sake, drink a little, then leave before anybody spotted him. It might not be that bad.

“All right,” Derek relented with a sigh. “I'll be there.”

“You will?” Cora said with a gasp. Derek could almost imagine the wide grin on her face, and suddenly he felt like such an asshole of a brother to have even considered skipping Cora's party. “You won't regret it,” she added. “There's a guest list and everything and I can vouch for like 40% of the people there. You're on your own for the other 60%.”

“So long as everything's properly laced with wolfsbane, I'm there,” Derek said, turning on the TV to watch a bit of football.

“Oh yeah. It totally is. I mean, I convinced the club owner that it's this new kind of totally legal herbal health supplement that mom insists we should use. Told him it lessens hangovers if given in specific, small doses,” she said with a chuckle.

“You should've told him the truth,” Derek joked. “Just to see the look on his face.”

“Mmm, see that used to be funny,” Cora said. “People used to think I'm weird when I tell them I'm a werewolf. But ever since I got this role, it's just not the same...”

“Because you're not a werewolf anymore. You're a vampire,” Derek told her.

“Exactly! Mom thinks it's funny.”

“Mom thinks _everything's_ funny. It's why she makes me pick up her demon dog,” Derek said, not even surprised anymore when he spotted Deucaleon chewing on the end of a shoelace.

“Good luck with that,” Cora said with a chuckle. “I'll see you at the club tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek agreed before he ended the call.

In the corner, Deucaleon managed to chew off half the shoelace, and Derek just gave the dog an exasperated look and said, with finality, “That's it. You're done.”

 

\- - -

 

There was a time when Derek actually enjoyed the loud music, the crowded dance floor and the alcohol. The time when he didn't care about anything but himself. He just wanted to have fun, be reckless, enjoy life. He called that time 'high school.'

He had to admit, the night wasn't turning out to be the disaster he thought it'd be. Cora seemed really happy to see him earlier, and she even remembered to keep the awkward introductions with her friends and co-workers to a minimum. Most of them were famous for something or another. Derek probably should've recognized them, but he didn't; he was too busy not caring.

God, now he felt like an old geezer, sitting by the bar alone and nursing his third beer while all the youngsters (most were only a couple or so years younger than him) went wild on the dance floor. The club was packed too, and Derek was grateful he was left mostly undisturbed in his stool by the bar. There were a couple of brave girls earlier trying to chat with him, and one very persistent male model, but it was nothing that Derek's well-practiced glare-of-death couldn't handle.

Even now, when someone stumbled toward Derek and rammed a sharp elbow to his side, Derek's glare was instantly there, ready to scare anyone who even tried to order a drink in his general vicinity. Only, when Derek turned to look at the offender, he was greeted with surprised round eyes and a sinful mouth hanging open in shock. It took Derek by surprise, and his glare faltered, but only for a second.

“Ohmygod,” the offender gasped, stumbling backwards and accidentally kicking Derek's shin in the process. Derek's gaze grew murderous.

It was the damn werewolf kid from the show. Of course it was. The one with the silly name: Stiles _Something_. The one who everybody thought was perfect for Cora. He hated this guy's guts already.

“Shit, I'm so sorry,” Stiles was quick to apologize. “I didn't hit you anywhere important, right? I mean not that your leg is any less important than...the rest... of your body...” he said the last few words distractedly, his attention focused on looking Derek up and down, his curious gaze even stopping conspicuously below the belt. “Wow, you're hot,” Stiles sighed, almost in a daze.

Derek's eyebrows shot skyward. “Excuse me?”

Then suddenly, Stiles face contorted in panic and he looked at Derek with fear in his eyes. “Shit, did I just say that out loud? Sorry, I—uh, brain to mouth filter, you know? I don't have that so... yeah, uhm, hi! I'm Stiles. Please don't slam my head on the bar,” he said, extending his hand for a shake.

Derek looked down at the kid's hand then up at that embarrassed face. Stiles was red-faced and half-drunk and the big eyes made him look a lot younger than he probably was. Derek almost felt sorry for him that he couldn't stay too mad for too long. He decided to throw him a bone, and finally shook Stiles' hand. “I know.”

“You know me? Oh good,” he said in relief as he sat down on the stool next to Derek and ordered a beer from the bartender. “That'd save me from the further embarrassment of trying to tell you who I am.”

Derek cringed as he watched Stiles getting comfortable on the stool next to his. Oh no. The kid wanted to talk.

“So... you know me, but I don't know you. Any chance you'll give me a name sometime tonight?” Stiles asked, grinning. “Because if you don't, I can just invent a name for you. How do you feel about 'Miguel'?”

“Are you drunk?” Derek said in irritation. “Or are you always this unhinged?”

“It's a bit of both,” Stiles said smoothly. He said a quick 'thanks' to the bartender when his beer arrived, and after a quick drink, he looked back at Derek. “So, I take it that's a 'no' for 'Miguel'? Right, then I'll just have to use my super Sherlock deductive skills to find out who you are. I'm pretty good at that,” he said rather proudly.

He's a persistent little shit, Derek would give him that. But was this kid really flirting with him? _Seriously_. “No,” Derek said, turning back to his drink. He hoped the kid would get the hint and leave him alone.

“Well, that's not very fair. If I'd take a guess, I'd say you worked in the business too but I've never seen you around before...I'd remember if I did because you, um,” he paused, “look like a walking wet dream,” Stiles continued quietly to himself, but Derek's werewolf hearing caught every single word. “Anyway,” Stiles said, louder this time, “how do you know Cora? I mean, assuming you know her and not actually here with somebody who knows her...”

“Do you ever shut up?” Derek asked, probably a little too harshly than he intended, but he just wanted to get back to the relative solitude he was enjoying before Stiles showed up.

“Not really, no,” Stiles said without skipping a beat. “I've been told my mouth gets out of control sometimes, but that's just part of my charm,” he said, licking his lips before grinning widely.

Derek would've rolled his eyes, but his eyes were drawn down to the kid's mouth, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say that lip licking was a deliberate ploy to get Derek's attention. In any case, it worked, and Derek briefly entertained the notion of flirting back just to see what Stiles would say or do. “Derek,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Excuse me?” Stiles asked, leaning closer apparently so he could hear what Derek was saying through the music. That, or it was just a ploy to get even closer into Derek's personal space.

“My name. It's Derek,” Derek said again. It took a couple of seconds, and Derek could almost hear the cogs turning in the kid's head before realization hit him. The look of surprise on the kid's face was more satisfying than Derek originally thought it'd be.

“Derek? Derek Hale?” Stiles asked breathlessly. “Holy fuck, you're Cora's big brother.”

“Congratulations, you've figured it out. The mystery is gone. Can you leave me alone now?” Derek said with a mirthless smile.

“Jeez, she was right,” Stiles said with a grimace, “You do have a giant stick perpetually stuck up your butt.”

Derek glared at Stiles, and Stiles raised both hands in front of him. “Dude, those are Cora's words, not mine,” he said. “But hey, it's cool I finally got to meet you. I thought you wouldn't show. Cora said you hated parties and you'd rather make love to your Camaro than go to a party...”

“She told you that?” Derek said, a mix of surprise and anger. That was exactly the kind of thing Cora would say, but the surprising part was why she would say that to Stiles.

“Oh yeah, we're pretty tight, Cora and me. She tells me all sorts of stuff, but don't worry dude, I was on your side. I told her she was crazy,” Stiles said. “A Camaro's a sweet car. Anyone would wanna make love to one.”

Derek tried not to smile, but found himself in a losing battle. He shrugged and tried to hide his smile by clearing his throat. “So, what else has my sister been telling you?” he asked before he could think twice about it.

Stiles face brightened at Derek's interest, and he barreled on. “Well, just so you know, Cora wouldn't stop talking about you. It's almost like hero worship, it's pathetic,” Stiles said, sticking his tongue out in feigned disgust. “She said you hated the limelight, which is why you're not into acting like the rest of you freakishly gorgeous Hales-- oh don't look so shocked, man, you know you won the gene lottery-- anyway, where was I? She said you're some sort of businessman, but she wouldn't elaborate. And then she said that you were amazeballs because even if you didn't wanna come, you were here and, okay, now I honestly don't know why I didn't recognize you immediately, because the family resemblance is just striking. The eyebrows are a dead giveaway,” Stiles excitedly told Derek, his body thrumming with energy that he was practically squirming in his seat. It was distracting.

“So much for your 'super Sherlock deductive skills',” Derek remarked.

Stiles shrugged. “It's dark... the shadows obscured your eyebrows,” he joked.

“And ' _amazeballs_ '? Seriously?” Derek said in disbelief. It was obvious Stiles was garnishing his tale.

“Her words, not mine,” Stiles said innocently. “But hey look,” Stiles said, slapping Derek's arm in an almost too familiar way that Derek's eyebrows shot up involuntarily. “I just want you to know, okay, don't believe the rumors. Cora's a good friend, that's all. There's nothing going on between us.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Derek asked, slowly growing suspicious of Stiles. In his experience, someone who was so willing to talk about rumors and deny them was almost always guilty. Either that, or they have other more damning things to hide.

“Well, I figured I'm probably not the most popular person in your books right now, with the way you're glaring at me-- totally a Hale thing though, too, that glare. Cora glares at me like that all the time. But yeah, all I'm saying is you don't need to worry about anything! Cora and I are just friends. Seriously,” he explained.

Stiles wasn't lying, that Derek was sure of. He heard the kid's heartbeat; he was telling the truth. His heart was racing though, and Derek had a feeling it wasn't entirely because of the alcohol or the loud music. Stiles was looking at him like he was some Greek god he needed to kneel before and worship. What had Cora been telling everyone about him? “Okay,” was all Derek could say. “Let's keep it that way,” he added, the ominous 'or else' hanging unspoken in the air.

Stiles chuckles nervously. “No problemo!” he said with a wink. “Cora's not really my type anyway,” he said casually, or as casually as he could, capping the sentence off with a swig of his beer.

Was he seriously implying what Derek thought he was implying? By the way Stiles' gaze was practically glued to Derek's face, the answer was a 'yes'. Derek heard Stiles' heartbeat race even faster when he said that too, and Derek had to turn and look, really look at him when he did so. He could see why a lot of teenage girls went crazy for this kid. Nice skin, expressive eyes, even the slightly upturned nose was kind of endearing. And okay, Derek could think of a few creative things to do with that mouth--

What the fuck.

Derek immediately turned away from Stiles when he realized where his thoughts were going. Did he actually think about Stiles-- skinny, annoying Stiles-- in a less-than-chaste manner? 'Wow. I need to get laid,' Derek thought.

Stiles chuckled. “Dude, you're not even gonna ask me what my type is?”

“I honestly don't care,” Derek said dismissively, refusing to look at Stiles again as he downed the rest of his beer.

“Tsch,” Stiles said. “Suit yourself. I was gonna say 'you're my type' and offer you a blowjob in the bathroom but whatever...”

Derek choked on his beer, and spilled half of it all over the counter top. There was no stutter to Stiles' heartbeat. He looked at Stiles incredulously. “You're joking--”

“I'm serious,” he said with a straight face. Then he did a weird twitch sort of thing before he blurted: “Of course I wasn't serious!” like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You'd have to buy me dinner first before I offer you anything,” he said grinning.

Derek looked at him, unamused.

“Dude, I'm trying to get you to lighten up,” Stiles said, placing a hand on Derek's shoulder.

Derek glared at the offending hand then back at Stiles, and Stiles got the hint and quickly removed any and all of his limbs away from Derek's personal space.

“O-kay,” Stiles said, turning his attention to his bottle of beer. “I'll just sit here, quietly, with my beer... which I am totally legal to drink, by the way. I'm 22, in case you were wondering. Cora said you were 27? Not that much older than me. Okay-- right, anyway, I'll keep quiet now. I won't bother you anymore...”

Derek highly doubted that. He ordered another beer, and Stiles hadn't even gone silent for 10 seconds before he was talking again.

“The thing is, I don't have any siblings, and I've always wanted a big brother, so when Cora told me all about you I kept imagining what you were like in person...”

“Disappointed?” Derek said, and he didn't even know why he was talking to Stiles again. It would've been so easy to just let the kid prattle on and eventually get bored talking to himself. But here he was, actually encouraging him to keep on talking.

“No!” Stiles said, turning to face Derek and tipping over in the process. He managed to save himself from falling face first onto Derek Hale's chest with a hand on the counter's edge, and another on Derek's upper thigh.

Derek didn't know whether Stiles' clumsiness was a product of the kid's amazing luck, or amazingly bad luck. Probably a bit of both.

“Jesus Christ!” Stiles gasped, flailing backwards and slipping off his stool completely in his haste to remove his hand from Derek's thigh. He got back up his chair almost instantly, and when he deemed himself mostly stable, he said again, “No, no I'm not disappointed. You're uh, everything I thought you'd be,” Stiles said, blushing.

And dear god, it was at that moment that Derek finally put his finger on what was going on.

Derek wasn't just some random guy at the bar that Stiles was flirting with. If he were, Derek could handle that. He could take a random bar hookup any day. But this went beyond that now. The moment Stiles found out who he was, things changed.

Stiles had a crush on him. An honest to god, schoolboy crush.

This was a disaster.

“Okay,” Derek said with a nod. “It was nice meeting you Stiles,” and he didn't really mean for that to sound too sarcastic, but it did anyway, and he almost felt guilty when Stiles' face fell. “I gotta go,” Derek continued, downing the rest of his beer in one go and standing up to leave.

“Wait!” Stiles said, hopping off the stool and clamping a hand around Derek's wrist, and wow, he had a good grip.

Derek looked at Stiles, and this close, Derek could even see the freckles on his face and smell the scent of his skin. It wasn't entirely unpleasant; Stiles smelled like cinnamon and sweets. If this were any other place, and if Stiles were any other guy, Derek would be the one dragging him to the bathroom for some alone time. But they were here, and Stiles was, well, Stiles. Derek's never been a lucky guy.

“Look, I'm sorry if I said something wrong. I know I'm overly excitable and I can get annoying pretty fast--”

“Well, at least you're honest,” Derek said.

Stiles ignored Derek's little quip and continued talking. “--So lemme make it up to you? How 'bout I buy you another beer?” Stiles said, looking at Derek hopefully.

“It's an open bar.”

“Well, then let me do the honors and order another beer for you, eh?” Stiles recovered smoothly, and even tried pushing Derek to sit back down despite Derek's stony stare. Either this guy had balls of steel, or he had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

“Just please, please don't leave because of me. Cora will kill me if she found out you left early 'coz I was bothering you,” he pleaded. “I'll leave you alone, promise!” he added, quickly releasing his hand from Derek's wrist and taking a step back. “You go enjoy your night and you won't even know I'm here. I'll stay as far away from you as--”

“Relax, Stiles,” Derek said, and maybe it was the wolfsbane beer finally getting to him, but suddenly the idea of crashing back into his apartment so early in the night didn't sound so appealing to him anymore. The music wasn't so bad, and the alcohol was even better. And he had to admit, Stiles was so disastrously awkward and unusual that it was actually entertaining. Kind of like watching a train wreck happening: it was going to be catastrophic, but somehow, he couldn't look away.

But yeah, maybe Derek really was starting to get drunk, because despite his better judgment, Derek sat back down, pulled Stiles by his red hoodie and manhandled him to sit on the stool next to him.

Stiles stared at him, flabbergasted.

“You said you'd order me another beer,” Derek offered as an explanation.

“Oh, oh right. Comin' right up,” Stiles said, his face lighting up as he tapped the bar top enthusiastically. “Wise choice staying, buddy. You won't regret it,” Stiles said with a wink.

“I think I'm starting to,” Derek said with a scoff, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile he didn't even have to force. What's so bad about staying? And so what if Stiles was looking at Derek like a love-sick puppy? This didn't have to mean anything. They were only going to talk. Or Stiles was. Derek was just there for the alcohol.

Another beer later, Derek was starting to stare too long at Stiles' mouth, and he was beginning to imagine himself licking a stripe up from Stiles' collarbone to his neck. It wasn't entirely his fault his thoughts were going there. Stiles was attractive in a nerdy, defenseless sort of way. And he smelled good. Plus, he probably would be willing to act out every single fantasy Derek was dreaming up right now too.

Damn. Derek _really_ needed to get laid. Soon.

 

\- - -

 

Not this soon.

Derek opened his eyes, and for the first few seconds, panic gripped him when he couldn't remember how he got back to his apartment, or why there were long limbs pinning him to his bed, or even why he couldn't smell anything else except candies and cinnamon. And worse, why the warmth of someone lying beside him in bed just felt right.

But not just someone.

Stiles.

“Fuck,” Derek cursed.


	2. Play Nice

Derek pushed Stiles away and scrambled out of bed so fast, he felt his world start spinning.

He may have pushed a little too hard, because when he opened his eyes again, his bed was empty, Stiles and the blankets having tumbled in one messy heap on the floor.

“Oww, Jesus,” he heard Stiles groan.

Derek was still in panic mode, his eyes glowing electric blue and claws threatening to break out from his fingers. He was about to demand answers, like what was Stiles doing in his apartment? Why was he sleeping in Derek's bed? What happened between them?

But all of the questions died in his throat when he saw Stiles sit up and realized he was clothed, red hoodie and all. He realized he was clothed too, his belt not even undone, and he was still wearing a shoe on his left foot. The relief Derek felt was overwhelming, and he reigned his wolf in just as Stiles turned to glare at him from the side of the bed.

“Do you always wake people up like this?” Stiles said, rubbing his hip and wincing in pain as he stood up.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked, though he wasn't as hard pressed to know the answer anymore. They probably got too drunk, and Derek must've let him stay the night. Or Stiles stayed, uninvited. The second one seemed more plausible.

“I brought you here,” Stiles said, rubbing his palms on his face. “By the time the party ended, you were too shitfaced to drive so Cora asked me to give you a ride home.”

“That doesn't explain why you slept here,” Derek pointed out.

“I fell asleep? I dunno,” Stiles said, trying for nonchalance as he shrugged. But the blush on his cheeks betrayed him, as did his heartbeat, which Derek heard stutter at the lie.

Derek narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“I was probably as drunk as you, which means, really, _really_ drunk,” Stiles added.

“I wasn't _that_ drunk,” Derek said indignantly.

“Yes you were,” Stiles insisted. “I lost count after your 20th bottle of beer. Dude, where does all of that even _go_?”

Derek opened his mouth to say something, anything, but thanks to Stiles' choice of words, Derek realized he needed to pee really badly. He pulled off his left shoe and pointed it at Stiles. “Stay exactly where you are,” Derek said with a growl before he threw his shoe to the corner of the room and stomped to the bathroom to relieve himself.

He was just in the process of tucking himself back in his pants when the door to the bathroom burst open and Stiles stumbled in.

“What the--!” Derek exclaimed, stepping back just as Stiles knelt on the floor and hurled the contents of his stomach in the toilet. Derek grimaced and pinched his nose in disgust. “You're impossible.”

Stiles wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and looked up at Derek. “I have a hangover. It's perfectly normal,” he said, his voice a little hoarse from all the heaving. “You're the one who's impossible. How the hell can you not be puking here with me from all that beer you drank?” he asked, looking up at Derek and actually glaring at him like it was such a crime for him to be feeling fine.

“I know my limits,”Derek said.

Stiles rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to refute Derek's claim, but he stopped abruptly and his jaw went slack in surprise, his attention caught entirely by something.

Derek looked down and realized his fly was still open and his boxers askew and hung low enough to leave very, very little to the imagination. “Fuck!” Derek cursed, hands flying to his jeans to zip them up. Stiles had the decency to look away at that moment, his cheeks blushing furiously.

“Jus-- just flush the toilet and wipe everything when you're done,” Derek said through gritted teeth as he stormed out of his bathroom.

Stiles watched Derek leave and tried to suppress a snigger. He didn't need to, as his face grew pale a split second later as he felt the chunks rising in his throat again.

\- - -

Derek fished his phone out of his jacket on the floor and found a dozen text messages, all from Cora. He opened the first one and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

_**Cora** : So glad you came to my party. Admit it, you enjoyed it._

_: And in case you were wondering, YES, you were drunk as hell. Stiles was kind enough to give you a ride home._

_:_ _PLAY NICE._

He heard the toilet flush and a moment later Stiles stepped out of the bathroom looking like roadkill. “You got anything for hangovers?” he asked. When Derek just looked at him blankly, Stiles waved a dismissive hand. “I forgot, you're Superman. You drink 50 beers and get shitfaced and wake up the next day looking like that,” he said, plopping face down on Derek's bed.

“Hey!” Derek protested, “Shouldn't you be _leaving_?”

“Jeez, so cold. Gimme ten minutes then I'll call the driver,” was Stiles muffled reply.

“You have a driver?” Derek asked, and really, he shouldn't be so surprised. “Pampered celebrities,” Derek muttered as he walked towards the bed to pick up the blankets from the floor.

“Wow, really?” Stiles turned his head to face Derek. “Just coz I have a driver I'm a pampered celebrity?”

Derek just looked at him like he's waiting to be proved wrong.

“Please, dude's one of my old high school buddies. Wanted some extra cash so he drives me from time to time. He drove us here last night! Otherwise, you'd still be face-down and unconscious in the bar.”

Gritting his teeth, Derek said nothing and just picked up the blankets.

“Jeez,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes before burying his face in the pillow-- Derek's pillow-- again. “You're nicer when you're drunk,” he added under his breath.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Derek asked, tossing the blankets on the bed and covering Stiles entirely with them. Stiles just grunted in reply.

Derek turned away from the bed and looked back down on his phone to read the rest of Cora's texts. The next one made him feel cold all over.

_**Cora** : First of all, d_ _on't panic, okay?_

_: Publicist sent this one to me. Thought you should see it._

It was a link to a TMZ article.

'This can't be good,' Derek thought before he took a deep breath and opened the link.

A picture of him slouched against Stiles as they walked out the club was on the page, and Derek cringed with embarrassment at how the angle made it look like he was plastered against Stiles' side. What was worse was that he even had his face buried in Stiles' neck, and to others it may just look like Stiles was helping Derek walk (which he was) but if Derek didn't know any better (which he didn't), it almost looked like he was scenting him. _Scenting_. Like a horny werewolf smelling his mate.

Dear god this was mortifying.

He almost didn't want to read the blurb at the bottom, but he scrolled down anyway. How much worse could this get?

_Stiles Stilinski coming from Cora Hale's 21_ _st_ _birthday bash with a drunk mystery man._

“This is a disaster,” Derek groaned.

“What is...?” Stiles asked groggily, head popping out from under the blankets.

Derek tossed him the phone and it hit him in the arm. “Oww, fucking shit,” Stiles cursed, twisting around to lie on his side as he rubbed his arm. “What the fuck was that for?”

“This is all your fault,” Derek accused.

“My fault?” Stiles asked before he looked at the picture on the phone. It took him two seconds before he threw the phone back at Derek, aiming for his head, but Derek caught it deftly with a hand. Stiles muttered 'lucky catch' before sat up to grab another pillow from the floor. “I don't see what's the big deal. I have pictures like that literally every time I walk out of a club, or a restaurant, or the gym,” Stiles said. He put the pillow under Derek's pillow and made himself comfortable. “If you're embarrassed because you were beyond drunk, well, your name's not on there, is it? Relax, nobody knows it's you,” he said as he slowly drifted back to sleep.

Derek looked down at the picture again and tried to see it from a normal person's point of view. It really didn't look all that bad, Derek tried to convince himself. Just two drunk guys coming from a party. No big deal. Nobody knew it was Derek. Or worse, nobody knew it was Derek scenting Stiles' neck. Nobody except other weres.

“You can't even see your face in the picture,” Stiles added, half asleep.

Derek ignored him and returned to Cora's messages.

_**Cora** : You had your nose buried in Stiles' neck the whole time. Nobody saw your face. You're safe._

_: Not safe from mom though. I'm betting you'll get a call from her._

_: And Laura, if you're lucky._

_: Good luck with that. Thanks again for coming to my party._

_: Oh and remember: none of this is Stiles' fault. PLAY NICE. :-D_

Derek looked up from his phone to see Stiles already snoring on his bed. He typed a quick reply to Cora.

_**Derek** : _ _Didn't panic._

_:_ _And I'm_ _playing_ _nice._

          _: He's still alive._

Cora's reply came fairly quickly, almost like she was waiting for Derek to reply this whole time.

_**Cora** : _ _You liar. You so did panic. I could tell._

Her last text got Derek choking on his own saliva.

          _: I'm glad you like Stiles. No scenting without his permission, okay?_

Derek buried his face in his hands. He was never going to live this down.

\- - -

Talia Hale's call came half an hour later, just as Derek was preparing breakfast.

“For the last time mom, nothing's going on between me and Stiles. I just met the guy last night,” Derek exasperatedly explained.

“I know, I know. But there could be something in the future. I mean, you like him enough to--”

“I wasn't scenting him,” Derek denied. “That's just how the picture looked. I was dead drunk. I couldn't have possibly--”

“But honey, how could you know for certain? You've always been a clingy drunk. And you don't remember what happened anyway. All I'm saying is, nobody's judging you if you do end up liking Stiles. He's a good kid. And it's been so long since your last relationship...”

“That's the thing, I don't--”

“Is that bacon?” Stiles voice shut Derek up immediately.

Stiles emerged in the kitchen a moment later, and groaned obscenely when he saw the bacon sizzling in the pan. “Ugh, that smells so good I could almost forget my headache. There's some for me there, right?”

Derek was tempted to tell Stiles to get his own bacon when his mother spoke up again, her voice low and whispering, as if Stiles could hear her over the phone if she were any louder. “He slept at your place? And you're making him breakfast? This is wonderful. I'm so proud of y--”

Derek ended the call abruptly and nearly slammed the phone on the counter top. “Just grab a plate, will you?” Derek ground out.

Stiles gave him a toothy grin. “You're an angel,” Stiles said, walking around the center island to grab a plate from the open cabinet. He held his plate out expectantly.

“You're doing the dishes. After that, you're gone. Is that clear?” Derek asked as he slid all the bacon onto Stiles' plate.

An almost devious grin spread across Stiles' face. “So long as you're making eggs to go with this,” he bargained.

Derek was going to make eggs anyway, but he contemplated forgoing the eggs just to spite Stiles. When he figured Stiles might just go and make his own eggs and possibly stay longer in his apartment just to spite him too, Derek relented. “Dishes and you're gone, is that clear?” he repeated in a more threatening voice, but Stiles just nodded and sat back down on the stool, intent on watching Derek cook.

“A hot guy making me breakfast in the morning... what more could I ask for?” he sighed dreamily.

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek grumbled.

_\- - -_

Thankfully, Stiles left Derek's apartment as soon as the dishes were done. He didn't even make a fuss out of it, and was out of the door so fast, Derek almost felt a ringing in his ears at the complete lack of someone talking nonstop. He couldn't say he wasn't glad to be alone again though, as the scent of Stiles in his apartment was a little too distracting for comfort. He thought that would be the last he'd hear of Stiles too, until a few days later when a large package arrived at his doorstep.

“What's this?” Derek growled at the delivery guy.

“It's, uh, a 65-inch TV. With a Blu-ray player and Surround Sound system,” he squeaked.

“I didn't order a TV,” he said, eyes narrowing.

“It says here apartment 1905, for a Mr. Derek Hale...”

“That's me, but I didn't order this.”

“It says here it's a gift. Please sign here,” the delivery guy said nervously.

It looked like the poor guy was about to wet his pants, so Derek took pity on him and signed the man's tablet. He was running down the hall with his cart before Derek could even ask another question.

Derek picked the box up and placed it in the middle of the living room. He called up his mother immediately. “I thought we're over that whole protective phase you had when I just moved out.”

“What are you talking about?” Talia asked.

“That time when you bought linens and furniture and _potted plants_ for my loft,” Derek reminded her.

Talia laughed. “Yes, yes I remember that. But your place looked like someone died in it, I just wanted to brighten it up a bit.”

“So what's up with this?” Derek asked as he brought his claws out and sliced through the packaging tape on top of the box.

“What's up with what?” she asked.

“This--” Derek stopped talking when he saw a note inside the box that smelled like Christmas and freshly baked cinnamon buns. This was definitely not from his mom.

“You do know I can't actually see what 'this' is, Derek. You're going to have to--”

“I'll call you later, mom,” he said before ending the call. He looked at the note in the box like it was some alien artifact that he wanted to inspect but feared that doing so would infect him with some sort of disease. He decided that it was just a note, Derek, calm down, and opened it before he could convince himself not to.

_Hey!_

_Consider this my thanks for breakfast. Hope it's not too much._

_-Stiles_

It was a surprisingly short note, but the lack of words to explain just why Stiles felt the need to give Derek a TV was even more infuriating. “Are you kidding me?” Derek said, looking at the box like it was the most offending piece of shipping material that was ever invented. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”


	3. Accept Gifts

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles cursed as he half carried, half dragged Derek into his loft with the help of Greenberg, his chauffeur for the night. They'd gotten Derek's address from a crazy drunk Cora, and fought off a small herd of photographers just to get from the club to the car. But that was the easy part. 

Getting Derek in and out of Stiles' Porsche was a struggle of epic proportions, and so was dragging him into the building. But the hardest part was getting Derek's keys from his back pocket. Stiles almost hated how tight the denim was, if it weren't for the fact that the view of that ass was just too darn nice. Plus, in the process of getting his keys, Stiles fingers had been momentarily intimate with said denim-clad ass, which wasn't so bad, until Stiles realized he was no better than an old pervert, and really? Taking advantage of a drunk man, Stiles? How low had he sunk? 

“Good thing you're pretty. You weigh a ton,” he said to Derek, who just lolled his head to the side to nuzzle his face against Stiles' neck. 

“Y'smell good,” Derek muttered. 

“Yes, I'm irresistible, Derek. That's the twelfth time you've said that tonight,” Stiles said with a grunt as he pushed the door to the bedroom open. 

“Clingy drunk, isn't he?” Greenberg said in amusement. 

“I have that effect on people,” Stiles joked as they walked Derek to the bed. “Here you go, buddy,” he said to Derek, just before they dumped him on the bed. But, as Stiles wasn't the most coordinated person in the world especially when drunk, dumping Derek on the bed also meant Stiles tripping on his own feet and falling face first on the bed, Derek and Greenberg toppling after him. 

“Oof!” Stiles said, his breath punched out of him from the combined weight of Derek and Greenberg on top of him. 

Greenberg got up immediately. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, mostly,” Stiles replied. He turned toward Derek, who was now snoring quietly on top of him. “I know I was thinking of you on top of me all night, but this isn't quite how I imagined it,” Stiles told him. 

Greenberg chuckled. “You need some privacy?” 

Stiles contemplated that for a moment. “Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “As tempting as that sounds, if there's going to be any further groping, we'd both be awake for it,” Stiles said, pushing at Derek's shoulder. Derek rolled to the side, and Stiles took deep, relieved breaths as Derek's weight was finally off of him. “Let's go,” Stiles told Greenberg, but just as he was moving to sit up, Derek's hand reached out and pulled him back down. “Or not,” Stiles said once he found himself pinned to the bed with just one rather heavy arm across his chest. 

“Now I _really_ think I'm intruding,” Greenberg said, clearly enjoying Stiles' predicament. 

Which, okay, wasn't really a predicament, if Stiles were to be honest. Because Derek frigging Hale was half on top of him, one arm around his chest, and a little shifting of limbs, and now Derek had a leg draped across Stiles' legs as well. Stiles scrunched up his eyes and gulped nervously, heat pooling at his groin. 

“Stiles?” Greenberg asked, this time a little less amused and a little more confused. “You're not just gonna sleep there, are you?” 

Sleep? In Derek's bed? Stiles wasn't even considering that as an option until Greenberg mentioned it. This only made things... a little harder for Stiles. “Gimme a minute. I need to think,” Stiles said through labored breaths. 

Greenberg shook his head, chuckling. “Alright, I need to move the car anyway. I can always pick you up in the morning. Text me when you're done thinking. ” 

Stiles nodded, keeping his eyes shut. He opened them only when he heard the front door close behind Greenberg. Holy shit! He was now alone with Derek, in his apartment, _in his bed._.. well, he didn't think his poor heart could take this. 

“Fuck!” he cursed when Derek shifted beside him, his arm moving from Stiles' chest to his waist and, oh, Derek's hand was against his hip, holding him almost possessively. His palm was hot, too hot, searing through his skin and making the already painful erection in Stiles' jeans absolutely unbearable. “Seriously, dude, you're killing me here,” Stiles said with a grimace, but all he got was Derek shifting even closer to him, soft breaths ticking Stiles' ear. Stiles gulped. 

He should really leave. He should push Derek again, get up, and go home. Greenberg was waiting downstairs with the car ready. There wasn't any good reason whatsoever to stay. That would be a little weird right? Staying? After all, he just met the guy that night. Although from Cora's tales, it was as if he'd known Derek longer. He seemed like a great guy, from the way Cora gushed about him. The fact that he was bone-crushingly gorgeous didn't help at all. 

But if he stayed, Derek would kill him in the morning for sure, despite how Derek held onto him like he'd been doing it for years. Like he was someone precious. Like he was _his_. 

“Why'd you have to be like this?” Stiles whined. He almost didn't want to turn his head to look at Derek's sleeping face inches from his. _Almost._

But of course he turned his head, found himself nose to nose with Derek. And that was what finally did him in. Derek Hale's handsome sleeping face, features relaxed and mouth slightly open. All Stiles could think of was how those eyebrows were works of art and how he wouldn't mind waking up in the morning to the sight of that face next to his. 

“Fuck,” Stiles cursed again. He was so screwed. 

\- - - 

“I'm so screwed!” Stiles wailed, plopping face first onto Scott's unmade bed. “Derek hates me,” he said, voice muffled by the bedspread. 

“Who's Derek again?” Scott said distractedly as he looked at himself in the mirror for the umpteenth time that night. 

“Cora's brother. Dude, I sneaked out of that boring charity dinner just to see you. You have to keep up,” Stiles said, but there was no malice in his voice. He was just glad he could finally talk to Scott. It was a shame they couldn't meet up more often nowadays. There weren't exactly many opportunities for Stiles to visit his best friend in between filming and promotional events. Plus, if he did have the time, chances were, Scott was the one busy with school. He was going to be a veterinarian, or the next Steve Irwin. 

“Oh right. _That_ guy. Get off my clothes, Stiles,” Scott said, moving to the bed and trying to pull his shirt from under Stiles' legs. “I'm gonna be late for dinner,” he said. With one last tug, he wrestled his shirt free and hurriedly put it on. 

Stiles turned his head to look at Scott but remained otherwise plastered to the bed. “You don't understand my feelings, man. Look at you: going on romantic dates with your one true love,” Stiles said. “While I...” a dramatic sigh “...am wallowing in self pity on my own.” 

“Why don't you just ask Derek out? Couldn't be that hard,” Scott said. 

Stiles sat up on the bed as if he just had an 'aha!' moment. “Now that you mentioned it, wow, it doesn't seem so hard anymore-- of course it's hard!” Stiles yelled. 

Scott just rolled his eyes and continued putting on his clothes. 

“Can you imagine me coming up to him, confessing my undying love for his murderous eyebrows, my unbridled attraction to his slightly-serial-killer smile, my unhealthy obsession with his strong and hard--” 

“I get it!” Scott said almost in panic. 

“--personality,” Stiles finished, an impish smirk on his lips. 

“What's so bad about a cheesy love confession like that?” Scott said, and he even had the nerve to snigger at Stiles' expense. 

Stiles shot Scott an irritated look. “You don't know the guy, Scott. If I did that, he'd flat out refuse me for sure. Maybe even beat me to a bloody pulp and feed me to the pigeons,” Stiles said, lying back down on the bed. “And the worst part is that he _knows_ I like him--” he added dejectedly. 

“Stiles, I'm pretty sure even his _mother_ knows you like him--” 

“Not the point-- the point is he knows I like him but he ignores me half the time, and when he does notice me, he acts like I'm a circus performer in a trapeze act. He's just watching me partly to be amused and partly to see if I'd slip and fall,” Stiles explained. 

Scott winced in sympathy. “Well, you said he's single right? And you've only met him how many times?” 

“Four times, if you count that one time in the coffee shop where I just saw him walking from afar and I waved at him and he glared at me, but then again, he might not have seen me?” 

“If you really like him, and you can't exactly tell him... then show him. Make him notice you in a non-circus performer way,” Scott said. 

“How?” Stiles said, confused. 

“I dunno. You're good at making schemes and plans so...” Scott said, making a vague gesture with his hands that seemed to say 'go forth and strategize'.” 

Stiles eyes lit up, and this time the 'aha!' moment came for real. 

“Scott, buddy, you're a genius!” he said, springing out of the bed and shaking Scott by his shoulders. “I'll make Derek like me... I just need to make a list,” he said, whirling around the room like a tornado. “Pen... dude, you have a pen? And paper?” 

“For what?” Scott asked in confusion. 

Stiles flailed. “A list! I just said I was making a list!” he said, ripping a piece of paper from one of Scott's notebooks shoved under his bed. 

“Of what?” Scott asked again. 

“Schemes, plans, strategies to get Derek to like me. And buddy you're helping me with this,” Stiles said, humming with energy. “I call this... uh... Operation: Make Derek do the thing.” 

“Make Derek do what thing? Do you?”Scott asked, still a bit confused but more amused at Stiles' sudden burst of inspiration. 

“That's the idea, yeah,” Stiles said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he grinned from ear to ear. 

\- - - 

“Okay, so I've written down everything I can think of right now. It's a lot so I'm gonna need help narrowing it down... also I'm thinking I should start with the easy ones first,” Stiles said thoughtfully, tapping his pen on the edge of the table. “Mmm... number 3, 5, and 6 look easy enough... but 6, I need somebody's help with that, maybe Danny...” Stiles mumbled. 

“Stiles...” Scott began. 

“What?” Stiles said, a little irritated at being interrupted. 

“Do you have to cook up your schemes here?” Scott asked. “This was supposed to be a date,” he said, giving Allison beside him an apologetic look. They were in a booth at Allison's favorite Italian restaurant and Stiles was slouched on the other side of the booth from them, writing his big list of plans to get Derek to like him. 

“Oh. I'm sorry,” Stiles said, feigning disappointment. “You don't want me here, man?” he asked. “You too, Allison?” he asked, turning to face his friend's date. 

“Actually, I don't mind that you're here,” Allison said, and Scott looked betrayed. Allison just smiled and continued. “I think it's romantic, what you're trying to do.” 

“Well, I'm glad at least someone's supportive of my efforts,” Stiles said. He knew there was a reason he liked Allison. “Thanks a lot buddy,” he said to Scott. “Wouldn't hurt to at least give me your opinion on my plans... I mean, you'll only be helping out your best friend get the guy of his dreams but whatever,” Stiles said with a practiced shrug. 

“I never said I won't help you. I just didn't realize I'd be helping you _tonight_...” Scott said, still hesitant. 

“There's no time to dilly dally, Scott. I'm in a race against time!” Stiles said. 

“Race against time?” Scott said incredulously. “Why is this suddenly a race against time?” 

“Have you _seen_ Derek Hale?” 

“No,” Scott answered smugly. 

“Guys who look like Derek Hale don't stay single for long,” Stiles said, ignoring Scott. “Before you know it, he'll be walking down the road with a super model hanging from his arm. Or worse-- Taylor Swift!” 

Scott chuckled at that. “Alright, alright. Just out of curiosity, what's number 3 again?” he asked, leaning across the table to try and look at Stiles' list. 

“Uhh... shower with lavish gifts...” Stiles read. “See this one's a bit... well, I think it's no good because I've already tried it, but I'm thinking it wouldn't hurt to try again.” 

“You've already tried sending him gifts?” Scott asked, and when Stiles didn't answer, Scott gaped. “No way.” 

“Yes way,” Stiles said, leaning back on his chair and looking slightly embarrassed. 

“Tell me you didn't send him a TV,” Scott said. 

“65-inch HDTV with Blu-ray player,” Stiles confessed. 

“Stiles!” Scott chastised. 

“What? You think I should've gone for the 75-inch?” 

“No!” Scott said in mortification. “You shouldn't have. At all.” 

Stiles pouted. “But that was the only thing I could think of to show him--” 

“What did he do? Did he return it?” Scott said, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Yeah. He didn't say anything. Just sent it back the next day so I thought he probably wanted something else... so I sent a wrist watch next and an Iphone, you know, just in case,” he explained like sending random gifts was the most logical thing to do. 

“He returned those too?” Allison asked, though they all knew the answer to that question. 

Stiles nodded. “Along with a love-filled message of 'if I get one more package from you, I'm shoving it down your throat',” Stiles explained. 

Scott gave Stiles a sympathetic look. “Stiles, the lavish gifts didn't work for Lydia. What made you think it would work for Derek?” 

“I dunno man. Like I said, I'm desperate,” Stiles said. He heaved a heavy sigh. “Look... ever since Moonlight Hills, I've been getting tons of attention from girls and guys. It's great and all, and you would think it'd be easier to find someone, but it's gotten a whole lot worse. It's never the right kind of attention, and never the right kind of person. But... then there's Derek, and... ugh, I can't explain it,” Stiles said in frustration, rubbing his face with his hands vigorously. “I'm hopeless,” he said, deflated. 

Their orders came at that moment and everyone at the table fell silent for a few short minutes. Scott and Allison were busy with each of their pasta dinners, while Stiles quietly went over his list again as he chewed on the garlic bread he stole from Scott's plate. 

“Alright,” Scott finally said after a few mouthfuls of seafood marinara, and in that one word, Stiles knew his best friend was on his side. 

“Alright?” Stiles said expectantly. 

“Alright,” Scott repeated. “Let's work on your list. If you're gonna do this, you're gonna need all the help you can get.” 

Stiles face instantly brightened. “Aww yes. So... number 3's a no-go?” 

Scott and Allison gave him twin 'you think?!' looks in response. 

“Alright, alright. No more gifts of any kind,” Stiles relented, crossing it out from his list. 

“Wait! Maybe not all gifts are bad,” Allison quickly told him. “Start simple. How about instead of TVs or other crazy gadgets that Derek might not need... why don't you cook some food for him?” Allison suggested. “It's less 'sugar daddy' and more 'I'm concerned for your well-being that's why I'm giving you artery-clogging meals to make you happy'.” 

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, yeah. That's good. Something about the quickest way to a man's stomach is through his mouth... or was it heart?” 

“You mean the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach?” Scott suggested. “It's not a bad idea,” Scott said. 

“And don't give him just any food,” Allison told him. “Would be nice to find out his favorite food and then cook that for him.” 

“Favorite food? I can do that,” Stiles said, pulling out his phone and scrolling down his contacts. “Good thing Cora owes me a favor 'cause I drove Derek home from her party... or well Greenberg drove Derek home from the party, but I was there and it was my car so... yeah,” he said as he typed a quick text. “Okay then,” Stiles said with a nod. “Lets see what she says, but right now, food is at the top of my list.” 

_\- - -_

Stiles was rudely awakened at 5 AM the next day by Cora's reply to his text. 

_**Cora:**_ _Why do you need to know Derek's favorite food?_

_**Stiles:**_ _For science._

_**Cora:**_ _Why? You banging my brother?_

_**Stiles:**_ _Yes. You wanna know all the lurid details_ ? 

_**Cora:**_ _You're not banging my brother._

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Of course I'm not banging your brother. That's why I'm doing this!” he said in frustration as he typed his reply. 

_**Stiles:**_ _I'm not. Obviously. But I could be... if you help me out._

Okay, Stiles immediately regretted sending that text. He had gone down the deep end, asking Cora for help to 'bang' her brother. Shameless, that's what he was. 

Stiles waited a few nervous minutes for Cora's reply. He almost thought it wasn't gonna come, and instead it would be Cora, miraculously back from a magazine shoot in New York and jumping through his window and warning him to stay away from her brother. It would've been bloody, no doubt. 

Finally after five agonizingly long minutes, Stiles' phone rang, and thanks to clumsy fingers, it made a few somersaults before landing on the floor with a thud. Stiles dived after his phone and answered the call, his legs still on his bed while the rest of him was on the floor. 

“You're an idiot,” Cora said in lieu of a greeting. 

“Good morning to you too,” Stiles answered. 

“You wanna have sex with Derek?” Cora accused. 

“What? Of course I don't!” Stiles was quick to reply. “I mean I do, yeah. Sex. Sex is good. But maybe not just sex?” 

“What do you mean 'not just sex'? And don't mince words, okay? It's still too early for this and I haven't had my second cup of coffee yet.” 

“Hey, you're the one who texted me at 5 in the morning!” Stiles complained. 

“Explain. Stiles. Now.” 

“Okay, okay. Jeez, this is an awkward conversation,” Stiles mumbled. He took a deep breath and continued. “When I say not just sex, I mean my fantasies of your brother range from bed activities to dinner dates at Italian restaurants and movie marathons at his place. Or mine. That kind of stuff,” Stiles admitted. “God that sounded a little less cheesy in my head,” he said under his breath. 

“And you're asking me Derek's favorite food because, what? You wanna cook dinner for him? Leave him a basket of little heart-shaped sugar cookies on his doorstep?” 

“Why? Does he like heart-shaped sugar cookies?” Stiles asked seriously. 

“You're an idiot,” Cora repeated, and Stiles could almost see her rolling her eyes as she said that. 

“Thanks, I think we've established that already,” Stiles said. 

“Just so we're clear: you better be serious about Derek, okay? Because I will rip your throat out with my teeth if you're not.” 

“Nothing like a good-ole death threat to get you going in the morning-- yes, I'm serious about him. You said you could always tell if I'm lying, right? So, use that freakish superpower thing right now and you'll see I'm not jerking you around.” 

“That's not how it works,” Cora retorted. After that, she was quiet for a handful of seconds, and Stiles would love to believe she was just digesting what he just said instead of plotting ways to dismember him and feed him to squirrels. 

“Alright,” Cora said with a sigh. “I'll try and get mom's recipes.” 

Stiles punched the air several times in triumph. “Thanks, Cora. You're a doll.” 

“And you're insane. Usually people are intimidated by Derek, but you? You're not even the least bit scared of Derek, are you?” 

“Scared? Oh heck yeah I'm scared of Derek. But I've got a year's worth of being tortured by you already under my belt. I'm used to it.” 

“You bastard,” Cora said, chuckling. 

_\- - -_

_Plan 1. The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach._

Once Stiles was sure there was nobody around, he got out of his jeep and walked quickly towards the entrance of Derek's apartment building. He was wearing a baseball cap with the brim low in front of his eyes, a threadbare t-shirt, ratty jeans, and one of his dad's old jackets. This was his usual get-up whenever he wanted to ditch the photographers and not get noticed by fans. It worked well so far. The last thing he wanted was anybody finding out he was sneaking into Derek's apartment building. He doubted Derek would appreciate the unwanted attention, especially with the way he lost his shit with that one blurry TMZ picture. Not to mention it would just be wholly inconvenient for Stiles. People would start asking too many questions, and he just couldn't deal with that right now. It took him all day to prepare the food, and he was nervous about giving it to Derek. 

The elevator ride up seemed to take ages. It was just sheer luck that the only other person in the elevator was an old lady with a cat in her bag. Not really the kind of person who'd watch a teen show about werewolves. 

When the elevator doors opened, Stiles took a deep breath and walked out. “This is it,” Stiles said to himself as he neared Derek's door. “Time to put the plan into action. Time to woo Derek. Time to--” 

Stiles' phone chimed and it was easy to guess who was messaging him. Scott. His lookout. Which meant... 

**Scott** : _Derek's here. He just entered the building._

“Crap!” Stiles said in panic. 

\- - - 

“Whoa, that was fast,” Scott said the moment Stiles got back and hopped into the jeep. Stiles was out of breath and he looked equal parts guilty and embarrassed. Scott had a feeling things didn't go too well. “Did you just give him the food and ran out the back door?” Scott asked. 

Stiles scoffed. “Please,” he said. “Do I look like someone who'd do that?” 

Scott looked unimpressed. 

“Alright, I probably am someone who'd do that. But I didn't, okay?” 

“Then why were you out like two minutes after--” 

“I left it on his doorstep and ran before he could get there,” Stiles confessed. 

“Stiles!” Scott said in disbelief. 

“What?! I panicked okay,” Stiles said. “It was a fight or flight response. I flew.” 

“You have to get back in there,” Scott said, pushing Stiles' shoulder. “After all the trouble you went through... no, after all the trouble _we_ went through, you're not backing out now.” 

“Who says I'm backing out?” Stiles said defensively, swatting at Scott's hands to get him to stop pushing. “Relax, okay? I'm just here to, uh, regroup. Catch my breath. Think of ways to do damage control.” 

“Just go back there. Now,” Scott demanded. 

“I'm not going back in there now. I'll wait maybe five, ten more minutes,” Stiles calmly explained. “That way when I do knock on his door, I can just casually check if he took the food in or threw it away.” 

“You planned this all along, didn't you?” Scott said, and this time, he was admittedly slightly impressed. 

“Me scurrying out of the building in panic was a scenario I already anticipated,” Stiles said. “Don't worry. I got this,” he said with a grin and a wink. 

\- - - 

Derek came back from his late afternoon run to find a food container on his doorstep. He looked at it suspiciously as he approached. He'd dealt with enough betrayal (and juvenile pranks) in his life to be wary of even the most harmless of things... like this container of-- Derek sniffed-- tuna casserole? 

That certainly changed things. 

Derek picked the container up, surprised to feel that it was still warm. Very few people knew Derek's childhood comfort food, so this was either from his mom or Laura. Cora was out of the picture since she couldn't even boil water without burning the whole kitchen. But why would they just leave it on his doorstep? 

“Not mom or Laura,” Derek concluded once he got a better sniff of the container. 

_Stiles._

“Not again,” Derek said before he pulled up the corner of the lid and inhaled deeply. He thought of throwing it out but god, it just smelled so tempting. He closed the lid, looked both ways in the hallway to see if anyone was around, and when he found no one nearby, he entered the loft with the casserole in hand. 

\- - - 

“Stiles...” Scott began. 

“Five more minutes,” Stiles bargained, looking at his watch and fidgeting in the driver's seat. 

“I have a class in 20 minutes. I need to leave now,” Scott said. “You're gonna go up there sometime today, right?” 

Stiles was about to answer when the sound of his phone ringing made him jump in his seat. He pulled it out from his pocket and had a mini heart attack. “Unknown number. Shit, it's him!” He said in shock, looking at Scott with wide eyes. 

“Derek?” Scott asked. 

“No, it's Johnny Depp calling me for some acting advice,” Stiles deadpanned, before he twitched and his hands flailed in frustration. “Of course it's Derek! This is my personal phone! Only a few people know this number: My dad, you, Cora... so this _must_ be him. Jesus Christ, what do I do?” Stiles said, panicking. 

“Don't look at me, answer it!” Scott said, gesturing wildly in his own state of panic. “Quick, before it stops ringing.” 

Stiles took a deep breath, and then another, before he mustered the courage to finally answer the call. “Hello, this is Stiles,” he said, thankful that his voice sounded mostly normal. 

“Get up here,” was Derek's growl of an answer. 

“What?” Stiles asked, dumbfounded. 

“I can see you in that old, blue jeep parked outside, Stiles. Get up here,” Derek said. 

“How--?” Stiles asked, looking out his windshield and up, up, up to the topmost floor of the apartment building. There he could see the figure of a man leaning on the balcony ledge, the dark hair and broad shoulders were unmistakably Derek. “You could see me? All the way from there? What are you, a hawk?” 

“He saw you? Shit, Stiles,” Scott said in disbelief, trying to make himself as small as possible in the front seat. 

“Just get up here. Bring your friend if you have to,” Derek said before hanging up. 

Stiles looked at his phone in disbelief then turned to Scott, a grin slowly forming on his face. 

“What's with that crazy look?” Scott asked. 

“Derek just told me to go up to his loft,” Stiles said, grinning like a maniac. 

“That's because you left food at his doorstep and you're now parked outside his apartment building like a creeper,” Scott pointed out. 

“ He _invited_ me,” Stiles added. “Plus, he called me. Must've asked Cora for my number, but dude, you know what this means?” 

“What?” Scott asked, a smile tugging at his lips from Stiles' excitement. 

“This means I have his number on my phone now. Technically, Derek gave me his number. And I didn't even need to ask for it!” Stiles said, pumping a fist up in celebration. 

Scott chuckled. “What are you waiting for then? Get up there!” 

Stiles nodded and climbed out of his jeep hurriedly, Scott moving to get out of the passenger seat as well. Stiles turned back around and poked his head back in the jeep. “I think this means Derek might like me. Even just a little. What do you think?” Stiles asked, sounding a bit nervous. 

“There's only one way to find out, right?” Scott said. 

“You're right, you're right. Hey, on second thought, maybe you should come up there with me? For moral support.” 

Scott rolled his eyes and got out of the jeep. “I have a class, remember? You're on your own, pal.” 

\- - - 

The door to Derek's loft opened just as Stiles' hand was poised to knock. The first thing Stiles noticed was that his knuckles were inches away from Derek's chest, where his black cotton t-shirt stretched oh so nicely across hard chest muscles. _Nice_. 

The second thing he noticed was Derek looking at him rather impatiently, like he knew Stiles did something horrible and he was just waiting for him to fess up. 

So he did. 

“The tuna casserole was from me,” Stiles blurted out. 

“I know.” Derek had the nerve to look smug. “You didn't bring your friend?” 

“That was Scott, and he had classes-- wait, you _know_?” 

“I know,” Derek said. “What I wanna know is why.” 

“I cooked too much and thought I'd share some with you?” Stiles said, clearly trying to see if that excuse would stick. It didn't. 

“Try again,” Derek said, unimpressed. 

“Alright. It's my thanks. For breakfast. You didn't accept the TV, which honestly, would've looked so cool in your apartment, by the way, and you also returned the other stuff I sent. So I thought, well, that you might like this instead,” Stiles explained, going for the honest route again. It worked the first time, but he wasn't so sure how far telling the truth would get him. 

“Let me guess...” Derek said, leaning against the door frame. “Cora told you what I liked.” 

Stiles nodded. “It's your mom's recipe. Or so I was told. You're not throwing it out or giving it back to me, are you? Coz that took me all day to make...” 

“Work must be slow for you to have enough time to cook food for strangers,” Derek remarked, a smirk on his lips. Like Stiles was doing his circus act once again. Like he thought this was all one big joke. It made Stiles' cheeks burn with anger. 

“Strangers?” Stiles bristled. To think he put so much effort into cooking that damn casserole, only for Derek to make fun of him? No way. “Yeah, see, I cook in my trailer in between filming so I could give it to random people in the street,” Stiles said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That casserole has love in every bite, so if you don't want it, give it back so I can give it to the next lucky stranger I see,” Stiles said with a sneer. 

Derek raised an eyebrow, taking in the angry flush on Stiles' face. It was surprising how quickly Stiles could change moods. Stiles was annoyed, and weirdly enough, Derek was enjoying this prickly side he was showing. He wanted to see more. “Love in every bite?” Derek said with a scoff. 

If possible, Stiles' face flushed even redder. “Cooking's my passion. Giving food to people I don't know is my passion. I'm just a very passionate person,” he said in one rush of a breath. “Just give it back if you don't want it,” he repeated, extending his hand, palm up in front of Derek. 

Oh. So this was how it was going to go. 

“Fine,” Derek answered, turning on his heel and leaving Stiles standing on his doorstep. 

Stiles' jaw dropped. “Wait, shit, you're really giving it back to me?” Stiles said, suddenly worried and regretting his little outburst. He took a couple of steps inside the apartment, prepared to bargain with Derek, pride be damned, before Derek's growled “Stay there!” had him doing a 180 back outside. 

Derek emerged a few seconds later and handed him his food container sans casserole. 

“Wait, what?” Stiles asked, confused. 

“You want your container back, don't you?” Derek asked. 

“Just the container? Without the casserole in it?” Stiles asked hopefully. 

“Yes.” 

The grin was just starting to spread on Stiles' face when he accepted the container. Then, a thought occurred to Stiles and he suddenly scowled and shot Derek a suspicious look. “Wait a minute. What did you do with it? Yo didn't throw it out, did you?” 

Derek looked like he was thoroughly enjoying this. “No. Relax, I transferred it. It's in the fridge. Happy?” 

Stiles' face lit up like a kid at Christmas. “So you're accepting it? You're really gonna eat it?” 

“Sure,” Derek said with a shrug that was, surprisingly, forced. Why was Derek feeling secretly pleased that he was the cause of the childlike glee on Stiles' face? It was troubling. “If I don't accept this, you're probably going to keep giving me something until I say 'yes',” he added, trying to sound more reluctant than he actually felt. 

This time Stiles let the grin take over his face completely, and damn if his joy and excitement wasn't infectious. “So who says we're strangers now, eh? You know me so well already,” Stiles said, punching Derek on the shoulder jokingly. 

Derek raised an eyebrow at the overly familiar gesture. 

Stiles awkwardly withdrew his hand and smiled sheepishly. “I guess... I should go?” he said, shifting from foot to foot. 

“Why? You wanna stick around and watch me eat it?” Derek asked sarcastically. 

Stiles eyes grew big in surprise. “Can I?” 

“No,” Derek scoffed. 

“Why not?” Stiles said, like Derek was the most unreasonable person on the planet. 

“Because no,” Derek said. He reached for the door to close it. “Goodbye, Stiles.” 

“Awww, come on,” Stiles whined. “I could feed you, make little airplane noises with the spoon--” 

The door shut in Stiles face and he glared at it for all of two seconds before he turned around and grinned so wide, he felt like his face would split in two. Derek accepted his gift. Mr. Grumpy pants accepted the food Stiles so lovingly made. Stiles flailed and did a little victory dance right there on Derek's doorstep. 

Score one for Stilinski. Aww yeah. 


	4. Reply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resistance is futile.

_Plan 2: Invite him for a romantic not-date_

“So, Derek,” Laura started casually before taking a sip of her wine. “I heard you're getting pretty cozy with that kid from Cora's show... Stiles, was it?”

Derek choked on his dinner. “What? Where'd you get that idea?” he sputtered.

They were at their parents' home in North Beverly Park having a very rare family dinner. Laura had just wrapped filming for a movie in New Zealand where she, ironically, played yet another supernatural being: an elf. She arrived in LA the day before and demanded they have a family get-together so they could catch up. That just meant she missed playing older sister and wanted to bully information out of all of them.

“It doesn't matter where I got that idea,” Laura said, glancing at their mom briefly. “So, what's he like?”

Derek scoffed at the ridiculousness of this situation. “I don't know. I've only seen the kid a handful of times.”

“So you're seeing him then?” Laura asked, a positively evil smirk on her face.

“Stop twisting my words, Laura,” Derek said through gritted teeth. “I'm not seeing anyone. Especially not Stiles. I haven't even seen him in weeks.”

“But you want to?” Laura teased. “I saw that picture of you scenting--”

“Laura,” Derek growled.

“Now, you two,” Talia interjected. “You're worse than bickering pups. Why can't you just enjoy the food in peace, like Cora is doing?”

“Huh?” Cora's head shot up like she was just jolted awake by the sound of her name. There were circles under her eyes and it really did look like she was an inch away from faceplanting and dozing on her food.

“Rough day at work?” their dad asked with a smile on his face.

“Ugh, yes,” Cora groaned, pushing her food around on her plate.

“You should try getting enough sleep if you wanna look your best when filming,” Laura told her.

“I would, except they've just been working us to death for the past three weeks,” Cora complained. “They're lucky I have werewolf stamina and Stiles has more energy than your regular Energizer bunny, otherwise we'd be worse than zombies by now.”

“Stiles sounds lovely. Introduce us sometime,” Laura told Cora. “I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

“You can come by the set. Or we could have lunch sometime when we're not too busy,” Cora suggested. “Though you never know with Stiles. He always finds something to be busy with.”

“That would be great. But do tell him to take a break sometime. People might start to miss him,” Laura said, that same teasing smile still on her face.

Derek ignored Laura and just focused on finishing his dinner. Who was starting to miss Stiles? Certainly not him.

 

\- - -

 

**Monday:**

Derek wasn't lying when he said he hadn't seen Stiles in weeks (two weeks, to be exact). The last time he saw Stiles was when he dropped off that casserole. But even though he hadn't seen Stiles in all that time, that didn't mean he hadn't heard anything from him. In fact, Stiles made sure Derek heard from him every day, even in the wee hours of the morning, in the form of texts. Lots and lots of texts.

**Stiles** : _I think it's over._

_: Oh shit wait, nope. They're at it again._

_: I think he said 'put your foot in there'_

_: I really don't wanna know where 'there' is._

_: Okay. It's his ear. There is a foot in the old man's ear and he is screaming like he's dying._

_: I dunno if I should call 911 or..._

_: Oh thank god, dude's alive. I think._

_: This is more than I needed to ever know about old people having sex._

“Idiot,” Derek said with an amused smirk as he tossed his phone to the other side of the sofa and continued working on his laptop. For the past few days, Stiles thought it was a great idea to bombard Derek with all sorts of texts. He never replied to any of them but still, morbid curiosity had him reading the texts anyway. They were just about random things, but oddly enough, Derek found them entertaining. Stiles had a clear talent for storytelling, and he made even the most mundane things sound interesting, like Stiles' epic battle with the shampoo bottle, or that one time with the stunt harness and an apple.

Sometimes Derek itched to send a witty comeback to some of Stiles' comments, even going as far as to type his reply on his phone. He stopped short of actually hitting send every time, thinking that if he did, he would be crossing some line that he drew himself. Replying meant admitting that he enjoyed reading Stiles' messages, that despite himself, he found Stiles funny and charming, and that he was actually looking forward to the next time they would see each other.

So he never texted back, and often spent the next few hours thinking that his comeback would've been so good, Stiles would've needed an icepack for all his burns.

Ah, god, he was pathetic.

 

**Tuesday:**

Derek tapped his pen on the edge of his notepad in slight irritation. He was observing a meeting between Isaac and a new client, just to intimidate his subordinate and sort of get the client's confidence in them as well. People liked it when Derek was 'hands-on' with their cases (mostly because he was a Hale), even if that meant just showing up every now and then for their consultation meetings.

Derek was having a difficult time concentrating on the meeting, with his phone buzzing every couple of minutes. He was certain it was Stiles, probably texting him about the sandwich he ate that morning. He wanted to turn his phone off because this was getting ridiculous. How many texts did Stiles need to send in a day? Did he have a quota he had to fulfill? Derek had half a mind to call Stiles just to tell him to stop sending him messages, maybe even threaten to block his number if he didn't stop.

In the end, Derek just took out his phone and discreetly turned it off.

Maybe it was just the upcoming full moon that night that was making Derek a little more irritable than usual. Any other day, Derek wouldn't be that bothered by the barrage of texts; he might even look forward to them when he was particularly bored at home. But he had to work too, in case Stiles forgot, and it would not do to be distracted by texts that could certainly wait till Derek was out of the office.

As soon as the meeting ended and Derek had retreated back into his office, he pulled out his phone to turn it back on lest he miss any important calls, at least that was what he told himself. Reading Stiles texts was just an unavoidable consequence.

**Stiles** : _Hey, wanna go to a movie premiere on Sunday? It's Kanima: The Movie._

_: It's supposed to be really good. Or really bad that it's circles back to good._

_: Sounds lame, I know. But hear me out:_

_: Mutant murderous lizard on a rampage in New York._

_: Kinda like Godzilla, except smaller and slimier._

_: And less destroying buildings and more destroying people's limbs and insides._

_: Jackson's playing the Kanima._

_: In case you don't know who Jackson is, he's plays the asshole jock in Moonlight Hills._

_: Wait, I forgot. You don't watch the show._

_: Totally uncool of you, btw. That's your lil' sis' show. At least be a supportive brother._

_: Anyway, back to Jackson. All you need to know is the guy's a douche._

_: And Cora hates him as much as I do. She's gonna watch the premiere too._

_: We both wanna see Jackson as a slimy lizard._

_: He's probably gonna be killed by Megan Fox in the end._

_: Wouldn't miss that for the world._

_: And before you think I'm crazy for asking you out on a date, I'm not. Asking you out, that is._

_: If you consider going to the movies with your sister and her friend as a date, then you're the crazy one._

_: So, wanna come?_

Derek stared at his phone for a few seconds. Stiles never asked him anything before. Prior to this, it had been one ridiculous story after another, without any indication that Stiles was looking for Derek's opinion on anything. He didn't know whether ignoring Stiles' texts this time around was the best thing to do. Keeping Stiles waiting for his reply might actually be more cruel than just flat out refusing him.

In the end, Derek chose to think about it (the act of replying, not the reply itself. It was a 'no' anyway). He placed his phone inside his desk drawer and worked a little more vigorously for the rest of the day.

By the time Derek was set to go home, he had already forgotten about Stiles' invitation until he took out his phone again and saw a single, new text waiting for him.

**Stiles** : _I'm assuming that silence is a 'yes'. I'm dropping off your ticket later. Remember: Sunday, 7pm. Grauman's Chinese Theater. See ya!_

Derek felt like he was going to burst a blood vessel. Instead, he channeled all his rage into a single text.

**Derek** : _I never said 'yes'. You can give me a ticket all you want. I. AM. NOT. GOING._

The reply came so fast, Derek was surprised Stiles even had time to read his text.

**Stiles:** _Whhhyyyyy_

Derek could almost imagine the whine coming from Stiles' own mouth. It was annoying.

**Derek:** _I don't do social events. I thought that was clear from the start._

**Stiles:** _But you won't even need to socialize. Just come in from the back._

_: Arrive just before the movie starts so you won't need to talk to people._

_: Then once the lights go down, you're safe to just sit and enjoy the movie with us._

Derek paused, fingers hovering over the screen of his phone. Stiles' argument made a lot of sense. But still...

**Derek:** _It's not that simple._

**Stiles:** _It could be, if you let it._

Ah, but that was exactly the problem, wasn't it? Derek could never just 'let it' be simple. And hearing it from Stiles only made Derek's face red with irrational anger.

With fingernails threatening to elongate into claws, Derek tried to form a coherent reply, but before he could, Stiles sent another text that only made things worse.

**Stiles:** _Why are you so against having fun? It's not a crime, you know._

“Presumptuous brat,” Derek said with a snarl. He didn't need somebody lecturing him about the merits of 'having fun', much less somebody who barely even knew him. He didn't realize how furious he was until he felt something give beneath his fingers and webs of cracks spread across his phone screen from where he held it too tight.

Shame suddenly bloomed in Derek's chest at losing his cool like that. He usually had more control, even if the full moon was mere hours away. It seemed Stiles had that effect on him.

He placed the wrecked phone face down on his desk and took a deep breath to calm himself down.

Now he had to go buy a new phone. Great.

On the bright side, at least he didn't have to worry about replying to any texts for the rest of the day.

 

\- - -

 

After work, Derek went straight to his parents' home for the full moon. Being able to control the shift didn't mean that he couldn't let loose during the full moon once in a while. It was even more enjoyable running shifted with his family, especially now that Laura was back in town and he could make a game of chasing her down and tackling her to the ground. Cora played along with them as well, but shifted out of her wolf form after just an hour, claiming to be too tired from work and crashing in the guest room soon after.

The perks of having such a big house and even bigger grounds was so they could shift and run freely whenever they wanted to without going out of the city. It wasn't the most ideal setup; there was just too much noise and too many unnatural scents. Derek still preferred the thick forests surrounding the old Hale Manor up north. That's where he spent most of his childhood and he still went there from time to time whenever he felt particularly down. But the trees in their new home provided enough cover from prying eyes, and the man-made stream that ran through the lot could almost pass for the real thing, the water fresh and cool whenever Derek took a drink.

It was past midnight by the time Derek made his way back to his apartment. Still thrumming with energy, he thought about getting some work done before heading to bed. He was already mentally going through the cases he could review as he rolled into the parking garage. However, something odd caught his eye and distracted him from his thoughts.

It was a familiar blue jeep.

“Seriously?” Derek said as he parked his Camaro. He walked out of the garage and looked at the jeep parked at the far corner of the lot, away from the street. And as Derek walked closer, he realized the jeep wasn't empty. Peering inside, he saw Stiles sleeping in the driver's seat, the hood of his jacket covering most of his face and revealing only his slack jaw and drooling mouth.

Derek stared at the embarrassing picture Stiles made and contemplated waking him up and demanding some answers. Because waiting outside someone's apartment building in the middle of the night? Well, that sounded pretty much like stalking already.

The sleeping bundle stirred and Derek took a startled step back. He watched as Stiles shifted himself to a more comfortable position, this time with his nose pressed up against the window and his breath fogging up the glass. Derek made a face akin to disgust and shook his head, turning around to walk away. He decided he didn't need to know why Stiles was there. It'll surely be more trouble than it was worth. They'd probably get into an argument and Derek would bet it would somehow end up with Stiles weaseling his way into Derek's apartment. It would just probably encourage the kid more, and Derek really didn't need that kind of distraction in his life right now. Or ever.

He went up to his loft and pulled out his laptop to review some files before going to bed. Settled on his bed, he started working, occasionally being distracted by his brain nagging him about Stiles and what crazy reason he could possibly have for camping out in his jeep. He even thought about how uncomfortable it must be to sleep in a car, and that the temperature outside was a little colder than usual.

Derek was proud to say he lasted for a good, solid two hours of trying to get any work done before he went back down to the parking lot to wake Stiles up.

 

\---

 

Derek knocked on the window several times until Stiles stirred.

Stiles threw the hood of his jacket back and looked up at the window, barely keeping his eyes open. The first thing he saw were a pair of murderous, electric blue eyes.

“Holy shit!” Stiles gasped, scrambling to get up and away from the window. When he glanced back and saw Derek standing there instead, looking impatient and unimpressed, a different sort of dread filled him instead.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolled the window down. “Heeey, Derek, fancy meeting you here,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, folding his arms in front of him.

“Well, I _was_ sleeping,” Stiles said groggily.

“Stiles,” Derek said through gritted teeth. He was dealing with a six year old.

“Uh, before that? I was driving home, was at work all day, and uh, saw your building, and then sleep. I felt sleepy,” Stiles said, scratching the back of his head as he tried to form a coherent reply.

“I want the truth Stiles, so I know if I need a restraining order or something.”

“Restraining order--?!” Stiles balked, sleep momentarily forgotten. “Dude 'kay, let's not get too carried away for a second here. I just--” he said, running a hand through his hair and making an even bigger mess of it. He looked more like he had a bird's nest on his head, and honestly, it was distracting Derek.

Stiles took a deep breath and continued. “I couldn't stop thinking that maybe you got fed up with me,” Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck self consciously. “You finally replied to my texts but then you stopped again, and I tried calling but it went to voice mail each time. I just want to, I don't know, apologize maybe? And promise not to text too much or invite you to any social events from here on out.”

“So what you're saying is you waited for hours for me to return just so you could apologize?” Derek asked, disbelief still apparent in his voice. “You couldn't have waited to apologize until the next day?"

“I didn't plan to do this, alright?” Stiles said defensively. “I wasn't planning on going here tonight, I just sort of... ended up here.”

“You just 'sort of ended up here'?” Derek parroted. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, I'm dead tired from work and I probably wasn't thinking straight,” Stiles explained. “Plus after filming, a few of the guys wanted to grab a beer so I went with them, so I might be a tinsy bit drunk,” Stiles said, squinting and showing Derek his thumb and forefinger an inch away from each other.

Derek scrunched his nose. Now that Stiles mentioned it, there was a faint trace of alcohol in Stiles' breath. It only made Derek a little bit more annoyed. “So you thought of passing the night outside my building instead of going home. Naturally.”

“No,” Stiles scoffed. “I didn't think, okay? I just... how do I even explain this without sounding like I'm crazy?” he said, mumbling the last part to himself. “Okay, so after a few beers, I decided to go home but when I got out of the bar, these paps were hounding me, and you know how these things go... there was a lot of pushing and flashing cameras, and I swear someone tried to feel me up and I just, ugh,” Stiles said in frustration, arms flailing wildly as he recounted the night's events.

“I was frigging tired and sleepy and a little bit drunk, and I drove away as fast as I could... and I just... I somehow ended up here,” he admitted, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Derek wanted to get angry. He really did. But as Stiles continued to talk, one thing became clear: despite all appearances, Stiles was telling the truth. He looked beyond tired too, the dark circles under his eyes making him look years older, and even the slight flush on his cheeks couldn't hide the pallor of his face. Worse than a zombie, like Cora said.

“I went up to your place to apologize anyway but you weren't there, and I was too sleepy to drive anymore so I thought I'd get a bit of shuteye before I headed home,” Stiles said, punctuating his sentence with a drawn out yawn.

Derek felt something, an emotion in his chest, at seeing Stiles so tired and, dare he say, vulnerable. Maybe it was pity, or maybe it was protectiveness. Maybe a bit of both. He could tell Stiles had a rough night, and even he wasn't as cruel as to berate Stiles for taking a break from it. Derek just didn't want to dwell on the meaning behind Stiles going straight to his apartment to escape. Because it didn't have to mean anything. At least, not to Derek.

“So... you believe me now?” Stiles said hopefully. “I promise I'm not a stalker.”

“Could've fooled me,” Derek said.

Stiles cringed.

“But alright,” Derek said with a sigh. “You're off the hook this time.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, face instantly brighter. “Does that mean we're good? You're not angry with me anymore? About the texts? You accept my apology?”

Derek shrugged. “If I say 'no', you'll be here tomorrow again.”

“Of course.”

“Then yes, I accept your apology,” Derek said.

Stiles grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you. I can sleep soundly tonight.”

“You seemed to be sleeping well just a few minutes ago,” Derek pointed out.

“Not as well as I wanted to, believe me,” Stiles said, yawning widely again.

“You're good to drive?” Derek asked.

“I think so. I'm at least fifty percent awake now,” Stiles said with a smile, and straightened himself out to face his steering wheel. When he saw the time on the dashboard display, his eyes grew wide. “Jesus, I swear I went to sleep like ten minutes ago, but it's been three hours? No wonder my back feels like hell.”

Derek didn't know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he said, “I have a couch. You can drive home in the morning.”

Derek was expecting Stiles to give him a Cheshire cat grin again, like this was all some ploy to get back into Derek's apartment, to maybe try and worm his way into Derek's bed when the lights go out. But instead, Stiles looked at Derek like he was some sort of angel sent from above that Derek felt a bit guilty for thinking the worst of Stiles.

“You're serious? Oh thank god,” Stiles groaned relief. “My arms and legs feel like jelly, I don't think I can even walk ten feet without collapsing,” he admitted.

“You could stay in there until morning if you can't walk,” Derek suggested.

“No, no,” Stiles said, “I can walk. Yup. Your couch sounds too good to pass up,” Stiles said dreamily.

Derek watched as Stiles got out of his jeep, tripping over his feet and nearly falling face first on the pavement if Derek wasn't there to grab his arm at the last minute.

“Oh, shit. That was close. Thanks, bud,” Stiles said. “My life was flashing before my eyes back there,” he lazily joked.

“You can barely walk straight and you still have the energy to talk?” Derek asked, somewhat amused as Stiles tried to coordinate his limbs into walking a nearly straight line towards the building entrance.

“Talking's usually the last to go,” Stiles mumbled. “Really appreciate you lettin' me stay...”

Derek tried to shrug it off. “If you can keep quiet for more than two minutes, we'll call it even.”

Stiles nodded. “Quiet. Yeah, I can do that,” he said as they entered the elevator.

Halfway up to Derek's floor, Derek realized that Stiles did manage to keep quiet, but only because he had already fallen asleep standing up, his head slumped on the elevator wall. When the doors opened, Derek grabbed Stiles by the elbow and dragged him out the elevator. “Stay awake. If you fall asleep out here in the hallway, I'm leaving you here,” Derek threatened.

Stiles shook his head, slapping his own cheeks twice to wake himself up. “I'm awake, I'm awake,” Stiles said. When Derek opened his door, Stiles stumbled in his apartment before him, mumbling, “couch, couch, sweet, sweet, couch.” He struggled with his shoes before plopping on the couch with a long, relieved sigh.

Derek looked at Stiles in sympathy. He looked like he could already melt on the couch and stay there forever. “Stay there, I'll go grab a pillow and a blanket,” Derek said.

Stiles was already curling himself on the sofa with a goofy smile on his face. “M'not goin' anywhere.”

As he went through his linen closet, Derek began second guessing himself. “What were you thinking?” Derek asked himself. “You're just adding fuel to the fire. He's gonna think you like him back,” he berated himself. Then, halfway through pulling out his most presentable blanket, he paused. Was it really so bad if he gave in to Stiles' advances? Expressive eyes, and a mouth made for kissing; long limbs, and a lean physique... oh no doubt the kid was attractive, Derek would admit to that. And Derek certainly liked his spark too. No doubt his energy and enthusiasm would carry over to the bedroom...

Derek shook his head and pulled the blanket out completely. No. There was a reason Derek swore off relationships. If he ever started anything with Stiles, it would probably turn into something very serious very quickly. And it would surely end in even worse pain than any of Derek's previous attempts at relationships. What was worse was Stiles was Cora's friend first... and if things ever went sour, Cora would definitely be affected. That was one thing Derek would never forgive himself for. His family already suffered greatly because of his failures, Derek didn't need to add one more.

“I really hope you don't regret this, Derek,” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed a pillow and headed for the living room.

When he came out, Stiles was still as he left him, sleeping soundly on the couch. He had twisted around so his shirt rode up his stomach, showing a wide expanse of smooth, pale skin, marred only by a constellation of moles near his hip, and a tantalizing trail of hair disappearing down his jeans.

Derek felt his mouth go dry. He was definitely starting to regret this now.

 

\- - -

 

Stiles felt amazing.

It must've been the rich leather of the sofa, or the soft-as-a-cloud pillow, or the warm blanket draped over him.

Or it might be the hot mouth currently making its way up the side of his neck.

In any case, Stiles certainly wasn't complaining. The man of his dreams, half-naked and attacking him with kisses was probably the best way to wake up in the morning.

“Derek?” Stiles found himself asking. He wanted to know what came over the other man all of a sudden. Did Stiles' charms finally get to him?

“Do you want me to stop?” Derek asked, licking a stripe up his neck.

“Oh god no,” Stiles said. “Just, uh, why?”

“Just shut up,” Derek said.

“Okay, yeah. Totally not complaining here. Oh!” Stiles squeaked in surprise when Derek nibbled on his earlobe. He felt hands traveling under his shirt, and he shivered when fingers paused to toy with his nipples. “I can't believe this is happening, oh god,” Stiles gasped.

He felt Derek grin against his neck. “You like that?” he asked, rolling a nipple between his fingers oh so slowly and driving Stiles crazy.

“No. Of course not. I don't like it when other people touch my pecks. Why would I like-- oh fuck!” Stiles gasped again when Derek ducked down and playfully bit a nipple through Stiles' shirt.

“Yes, I can see you totally hate that,” Derek said with that same, smug grin.

“Oh yeah, I fucking hate it,” Stiles said, even as he sat up and quickly removed his shirt. “Now do it again,” he said, pulling Derek down on top of him.

Derek chuckled but did as he was told, worshiping Stiles' chest and making him moan and squirm.

By the time Derek divested Stiles of his boxers and was moving to pull his own underwear down, Stiles didn't have the energy or the wits about him to play around. All his focus was left on trying not to come at the sight of Derek, in all his glory, and wow, yeah... he was very glorious indeed. He felt his mouth water and his dick twitch at the sight of Derek, perfectly-chiseled Greek god Derek and his porno-worthy cock, who was now pulling Stiles' legs apart and circling his hole with lube-slicked fingers.

“You ready, Stiles?” he asked.

Stiles nodded, words finally failing him. How can he even form a coherent reply when Derek's fingers were teasing him, a pad of a finger tracing lazy circles against his hole. Then finally, a push in and--

“Stiles!”

Stiles woke with a start. “Huh, what?”

“I said wake up,” he heard Derek's voice from somewhere in the apartment.

Oh, right. Stiles finally remembered. He spent the night, in Derek's apartment, on Derek's couch, covered in Derek's blanket and hugging Derek's pillow. It went much like his dream, with one very unfortunate difference: he was still fully clothed and Derek was nowhere near him. Damn.

What was even more unfortunate was the very energetic morning wood tenting his jeans and mocking him and his tendency to have really vivid, realistic dreams.

“Your phone's been ringing nonstop, it's making my ears bleed,” Derek said, coming out of the bedroom in a charcoal gray suit. Fully clothed and fresh from a shower and definitely not sexing Stiles within an inch of his life. Damn, damn, damn.

Still...

Stiles looked up at Derek's sour expression, and discreetly back down to expensive Italian suit perfectly draping those broad shoulders and accentuating that trim waist, and further down to those dress pants that fit nicely around his thighs and legs, and lets not forget the best part: that generous package nestled--

“Stiles... your phone?” Derek said through gritted teeth.

Stiles jolted out of his appreciation of Derek's suit and gaped dumbly at Derek, “My phone?”

Derek cocked his head to the side with a raised eyebrow, and when Stiles still couldn't catch up (he would chalk it up to most of his blood leaving his brain and migrating south), Derek muttered, “Oh for the love of god...”

He walked up to the sofa and bent to pick up something from the floor beside it. “If you're not gonna answer it, just shut it off,” Derek said, handing Stiles his phone.

That's when Stiles realized the shrill ringing in his ears was actually his phone, and not the warning alarms in his head going off whenever his libido decided to take over his major brain functions. “Oh, uh, thanks,” Stiles said, trying to avoid looking at Derek's face again as he took his phone.

Derek scrunched his nose and walked stiffly away.

“Oh good, no missed calls. It's only my alarm,” Stiles said. “There, turned it off. Your ears are safe.”

“Good, shouldn't you be somewhere else?”

Stiles looked at Derek emerging again from his bedroom, fixing his tie and running a hand through his hair. That very same hand that only minutes ago was doing unspeakably amazing things to Stiles--

“Yes!” Stiles gasped. “Bathroom. I need to be in the bathroom. Do you mind if I used your bathroom. I need to pee... and uh, shower too. Shower, yes. Can I? You don't mind, do you?” Stiles babbled.

Derek looked at him with a deep frown. “Go right ahead. There's some towels in the cabinet,” he said.

“Thanks, you're a godsend,” Stiles said with a too-wide grin.

Derek shrugged and readjusted his tie. When he looked back up, Stiles was still on the couch, looking at him like he was waiting for something. “You need anything else?”

“Oh,” Stiles blushed. “I, uh... no not really. I'm just, you know--” Stiles fidgeted in his seat.

Derek, as if remembering an unpleasant memory, scrunched his nose again and decided to fix himself some breakfast. “You know where the bathroom is,” he said before he disappeared into the kitchen.

As soon as Derek was out of sight, Stiles pushed the blanket down from his legs and glared at his traitorous erection. “Someday, buddy, you are gonna get me killed,” he said. He looked one last time towards the kitchen to make sure Derek wasn't coming back anytime soon, before he was dashing towards the bathroom and locking himself inside.

 

\- - -

 

He didn't know why he thought being in the bathroom would've been safer for him, but as soon as he locked the door, the scent of Derek's aftershave filled his lungs. “Oh god, Derek was just in here... naked...” Stiles thought out loud, and his erection twitched inside his jeans. “Shit, shit, shit,” Stiles cursed. He thought about doing the right thing, of taking a cold shower and willing his erection away with thoughts of Coach Finstock in a lace teddy. But he was beyond help now.

He shucked off his clothes as quickly as he could and got in the shower. As soon as warm water sprayed over him, he leaned a hand against the tile wall, the other stroking his erection as he let the images come back to him: Derek naked and on top of him, kissing him and doing things with his mouth and hands that made Stiles even more of an incoherent mess.

And god, those hands. Stiles could almost feel how they glided against his skin, how they toyed with his nipples, how they teased at his hole.

Gripping his erection tighter, he imagined Derek's hand there, where his dream had been so rudely interrupted. Derek's fingers would be tracing his rim, then pushing in, one first, and then another, stretching him and making him ready for Derek's cock.

Soon even those talented fingers would not be enough, and by that time, Stiles knew he would probably be begging for Derek to fuck him. And Derek, smug bastard that he was, would grin and torture him some more, Stiles just knew it. Derek would use his fingers to make Stiles crazy, and just when Stiles thought he couldn't take anymore, Derek would finally oblige him. He would push his cock in, stretch Stiles wide with his girth, then fuck him within an inch of his life.

Stiles could almost feel the burn of the stretch, could almost feel Derek's strong hands on his hips, and before he knew it, he was coming hard with a barely suppressed groan.

Panting heavily, Stiles opened his eyes and looked at his hand, then at his spent cock, and down at the floor where the evidence of his morning activity was quickly being washed away by the water. “I'm so fucked.”

 

\- - -

 

Stiles rushed out of Derek's apartment so fast, you would think he was being chased by ghosts. He didn't even attempt to mooch breakfast from Derek, just said a quick goodbye and practically ran out without another word, which was just as well, Derek thought.

Dumping his cereal bowl in the sink, Derek walked back to his bathroom to brush his teeth. The moment he opened the bathroom door, he was assaulted by the scent of Stiles.

“Oh god,” he gasped and covered his nose and mouth with a hand, looking at his bathroom like he was in physical pain. Everything smelled like Stiles. Not just Stiles' usual sweet scent, but the scent of his arousal, which Derek caught a whiff of when he handed Stiles' phone to him earlier. But that was nothing compared to this. Now the scent was sharper, more powerful, like a solid wall hitting Derek and making him lightheaded.

Derek flicked open the switch for the exhaust and shut the door as quickly as he could. Mortified, he looked back at the door and the scent that was practically seeping through the wood.

Stiles was masturbating in the shower. The fucking kid had the nerve to jack off in Derek's shower. Probably to thoughts of Derek too, with the way Stiles was looking at him that morning.

Derek blushed a furious shade of red at that realization, and spent the whole drive to his office trying to block thoughts of a naked Stiles masturbating in his shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too long to write. I just couldn't get this chapter sorted out for so long. Plus work got in the way. My apologies. Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.
> 
> Anybody wants to see Kanima: The Movie?
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter.


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